(A/N: Alright! Exams are almost over! I have two weeks off before my last exam, so I'm going to use the time to catch up on my writing. I am pleased to say that most of the exams have gone so far, but unfortunately I do not have Hermione's brain, thus the reason for the lack of updates. The lack of writing, however, has made me ready to go now that I can write, so chapters the story should be flowing nicely now. Nothing like a forced break to make one really appreaciate the things one loves. Ah yes, absence definitely make the heart grow fonder. And now, enjoy! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)

In the Head of the Snake

Chapter 18: Desire

It did not matter that he was merely a teacher. It did not matter that he dealt with incompetent fools every single day of his pitiful life. It did not matter that his status was below the level of his own students. None of that mattered to Ginny Weasley.

As she sat in his potion's class and listened to him drawl away about how to accurately pickle substances of flesh and blood, Ginny couldn't help but think about her latest lesson with Professor Snape.

He was so different when it was just her and him. There was none of this "oh you fools you can't do anything" attitude. It was more like a..."Ginny you can do anything" attitude. It was just so different. His drawl would come to life, sparked by her interest in the subject matter. His voice would grow louder and softer as his points varied. His magicked chalk would flurry across the blackboard in their designed room that the Room of Requirement had made for them. And all the time Ginny would sit, absolutely mesmerised, by the wonderful person that is Professor Snape.

Yes, he still snapped at her. Yes he still snarled. Yes, she was still afraid of him. But now it was for a reason completely foreign to before. Before, she hated him because he was a slytherin. Before, she hated him because of who he was. And all of that combined made him into the man she was afraid of. But now...She hated him because he was only a Slytherin on the surface. Now she hated him because of the man he was forced to be. Really, he was just a stupid little fool. He had made a horrible mistake in his life, and now he perpetually felt bad about that mistake. Granted, some mistakes are harder to fix, and even harder to forgive. But surely time can make wonders? And if not time, then how about a bit of magic?

"Miss Weasley, what did I just say?" Snape's voice snapped across the classroom.

Ginny didn't bother raising her head from the parchment she had been doodling on. Living with Fred and George meant that you picked up on their tricks – how to daydream and listen at the same time was one of those tricks.

"You just said that the temperature of the item being pickled must be equal to that of the concoction it must be placed into. Too hot and it will cook, and too cold and the item will freeze and loose some of its usable potential."

Snape walked the length of the classroom and stood in front of her desk, a cold sneer in place. Still, Ginny didn't look at him, her hand continuing the drawing on her parchment. Eventually she sighed and placed the quill down neatly on the desk before looking up into Snape's deep black eyes. She realised with a start that his eyes weren't cold – they were lonely. Ginny quickly lowered her gaze to his strong nose instead.

"Miss Weasley, even if you are gifted with the magical talent of multitasking, it would be more appropriate for you to appear interested in a teacher's class rather than drawing stick figures on your page.

Ginny looked down at her parchment. She hadn't even noticed what she'd been doing, but seeing the many stick figures each with lines drawn from one to the next, she realised she had been revisiting her most recent Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape.

Just a few weeks ago, Ginny would have taken Professor Snape on. She would have shouted and yelled. She would have thrown a tantrum at being singled out and then answering the question right and then still being punished for it. But that was then. And this was now. So Ginny just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Yes, Sir," before picking up her quill and waiting for Snape to resume his class.

Snape didn't move. For some reason, he appeared angry by her actions. By her lack of actions, rather.

"Miss Weasley, I will see you after class!" he snapped with more force than was necessary, and then stalked back to the front of the class, rapping the board hard with his wand. "This is the potion used to see if there are contaminates in a pickle-substance. If brewed correctly, a drop into a contaminated pickle-substance will turn the contents blue. If not contaminated, it will turn the contents momentarily white to indicate purety and then disappear. I suggest you get this right, because one of you will be drinking a jar of pickled substance and if your potion gets the contents wrong, you might as well all die."

Ginny rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She was so out of it today. She couldn't bring herself to concentrate on her work. Her mind kept on flashing between different points of focus, none of which were her studies. It pained her to admit it, but she was thinking just as much about Harry these days as she was about Professor Snape. And she didn't like it. Especially the way she was thinking about Professor Snape. It wasn't good. But who ever got into trouble for daydreaming? And so her mind continued to wonder.

At the end of the class, each student was given five bottles of different pickled substances and told to drop some of their potion into each. Ginny wasn't even pleased when hers worked. Actually, she bit her lip in frustration. Everything on the outside appeared normal. Her studies were going well. Her relationships and friendships were going well. Everything was going well. And she didn't like that at all because it wasn't normal. Nothing was normal. She was in the middle of a tumble of anger and hurt and frustration. And she blamed it all on the War. No one else seemed worried or concerned about the War. In fact, hardly anyone seemed to notice that there was a War going on. But there was. Is. There is a War going on, Ginny thought hard to herself. And here was Ginny, in Potions class. Following the instructions in a book. As if you could follow instructions about anything and everything.

Ginny was hardly even aware of the class leaving around her as she stared at the two blue vials and three clear ones before her. Life wasn't like pickled substances. There isn't a test one can use to determine how dangerous one situation is from another. It could be the most normal thing – cooking in a kitchen, pulling weeds out of a garden, walking down stairs – that ends up being the most dangerous. All that one can do in situations like these is to be on full alert. To be ready for anything. And everything.

But witches and wizards...they're just humans! They cannot be on "full alert" at all times...they have to take a breather some time. Take a moment to gather themselves and remind them of who they are and that everything is going to be alright. You can't expect someone to live their whole lives expecting the worst!

"Miss Weasley?"

Professor Snape. There was a perfect example of what happens to a man when the ability to relax and remind is taken away from a person. Ginny realised this and it only made the knot in her stomach grow harder still. It wasn't fair. The whole War, the whole situation...it wasn't fair!

"Miss Weasley?"

Why did it have to be like this? Why was she always thinking about Harry? Why was there an aching gap somewhere deep inside her? A desire so strong that nothing could take it away? And why did this gap ache and beet with pain everytime she thought of Harry in trouble? In danger? And why, oh why oh why oh why! Why was it that when she wasn't thinking about Harry in trouble, this ache started to immolate, to beet just as strongly, as when she thought of Snape in trouble?

"Miss Weasley, you give me too much credit. I haven't even given you your punishment and you are already crying."

She was crying? Why was she crying? Because of the injustice. Because as much as she felt for Professor Snape, she felt more for Harry. And Professor Snape was always in danger. All the time. It didn't matter that he was a teacher. That he was a pitiful man. That his status was below the level of his own students. It didn't matter because of what he was doing. He was fighting. When none of them could do anything but follow orders in books, Professor Snape was busy writing a book with his own recipe to follow, the faster his steps being written meaning the longer his life would be. And despite this, the ache was more for Harry than for him. It was an ache of concern. Of worry. And nothing would fill that ache up while the War was still going on. And the War would always be going on until one of these great men in the world died. It didn't matter who triumphed; the point was, the War would be over.

"Ginny?"

Ginny realised her eyes were closed tight and it took her a moment to open them. In front of her was Professor Snape at eye level. He was squatting in front of her table, his folded arms resting on the table and his chin perked on his arms.

"Now why do you listen when I call you by your first name, and not your surname?"

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but her throat was too tight. She couldn't get anything out. He was looking at her with those sad lonely eyes with understanding, and it was too much. Those eyes were too much for her. She wanted to move and run away from this man. This man who accepted the very thing that Ginny was trying to reject. War. It was too much for her. What could she do? She had to do something.

Severus Snape might have known what Ginny was thinking, or he might have guessed, or just gotten it right on the off chance, but Ginny froze when he said, "It's painful at first. But after a while everything just...goes numb."

Did Snape know? Ginny stared at the man before her. His pale skin. His long nose. His deep eyes. His straggly hair. He was the last person she would have come to for comfort, but now that she had spent more time with him, she knew that he was the only person who could teach her. He was where she needed to be; certain, cunning, and clever. She needed to be like that to. So that she could write her own book like he was, rather than following the instructions of everyone else.

"How long?" she managed to get out eventually. "How long is after a while?"

"Depends. People are different. Time is different to people. To me, it was too short. I became unfeeling too quickly. I didn't care anymore. For others, they feel much longer than I. They can bear the pain. I ran away."

"Why did you run away?"

"Because it was easier than facing it. It was easier to pretend. If it isn't scary, you can't be afraid of it. If it isn't hurt, you can't feel sorry for it," Snape shrugged his shoulders, his rested head tilting slightly to the side with the movement.

"What if you can't run away? What if you can't pretend?" Ginny's voice was still thick with tears, although the flow had stopped.

"No one can run away forever. And the truth will come out in the end. It's just a way with dealing with something later rather than now. Be strong in front of your enemies, and they will fear you. Be weak in front of yourself, and you will know yourself."

"I don't understand."

Severus stood up and folded his arms. Looking down his nose at Ginny he said, "You're not supposed to."

Ginny stood up and almost fell back to her chair. Her knees were shaking too much to hold her up. Her very flesh was reacting to the fear of the future. She was supposed to be strong! She was supposed to be brave! She was a Gryffindor for crying out loud! She wasn't supposed to fall all over the place just because of the uncertainty of the future!

Ginny realised why she was still standing; Professor Snape was holding her up. The closeness of him to her...she could smell the spices on his fingers, hear his staggered breathing as he shifted her weight onto her feet again...the closeness was too much. The ache in her grew. The concern shifted to worry. The worry morphed into fear. And then the fear, it did something so strange. Ginny, through her concern and worry and fear for the life of this man, turned herself into Snape's arms and clung to him. He still held her up and she could feel him shift to accommodate both of their weights, but he was solid and there and whole and...alive. She could hear the beat of his heart solid and clear under his robe. She could feel the pulse of it through his strong arms holding her up. He was the very essence of living. Fighting for what he believed in even though he had died many years ago. He was a man living on the edge. Living for the moment of his true death. And she knew that in that moment; Snape was waiting for the day that he would die. Waiting for it, and wanting it.

And that thought made her cling to him all the harder, and the tears that she had been suppressing the whole time came tumbling from her eyes only to be absorbed by his dark robe. How much could she cry for this man? How much could she cry for all the men in her life? How much could she cry for her loved ones? How much? How much?

"Crying won't help anything," Severus said eventually.

Ginny didn't remove her face from his chest, but the sobs slowly eased and the tears soon stopped.

"Tears can't do anything. They can't fix anything. They only allow you the priveledge of selfpity."

"Priveledge?" Ginny's voice cracked.

"Some of us are not even allowed that."

Ginny was again assaulted by that sadness, but she stifled it quickly before it could take over.

"What else can some of us do if not cry?"

"You can ready yourself. Ginny, look at me," and he had to force her face off of his chest and raise her chin to make her look into his eyes. "This is war," he shrugged at the statement. "There is nothing we can do to stop it from happening, but we can help make it end faster. Every bit helps. Right now, you and your classmates are powerless. You have been given a grace period. It is a blessing. Learn as much as possible during this time, and then, one day when everyone fights, you will be able to fight too."

Ginny wanted more than that. She wanted to reassure him too...but how? She was a child in his eyes, she could see it staring back at her. And what else was she really? That was all she was: a child.

But Ginny obviously didn't know how to read Snape properly yet. Or maybe he just knew what she needed, like the Room of Requirement always did. Because he lowered his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

As he came closer, Ginny couldn't look any more. She closed her eyes. She wanted him to make her feel better. She wanted him to stop the ache of worry in her heart. She wanted him to end it all. To take away everything. Every thought. Every emotion. Just to leave her with her own head. Even for just a moment. All that she needed right now was him.

She felt his face brush next to hers and his lips next to her ear.

"You will become strong, Miss Weasley. You have a gift given to all Weasleys; the stubbornness of Gryffindor courage. I cannot help you all the time. You must learn to help yourself."

And then there was blissful nothingness as his lips rested with barely a touch on her forehead. And Ginny thought clearly; if it weren't for Harry, she would be in love with a man like Severus.

(A/N: And so this is where Ginny's real turmoil begins. This whole time she's been using Severus for her own selfish needs. And now...she is experiencing something different...So let me know what you think! Soon to come; another Map, more lessons, Dumbledore and Voldemort, and Trelawney's dismissal. Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)